


Day six: Smut

by charis_chan



Series: SanversWeek2k17 [6]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Day6 - Freeform, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Praise Kink, SanversWeek, Smut, Spanking, i never thought I'd use those tags, pwf (porn with feelings), sub!Alex, top!Maggie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis_chan/pseuds/charis_chan
Summary: Such a good girl,” her breath is warm against your ear. “My good girl.”You shiver.The wind coming in from the open window is chilly against your heated skin.The sweat formed after your long workout is sticky where it pools at your lower back.Your knees are sore after so long in the same position and you know you’ll have red spots there that won’t fade until morning.The ache at your shoulder blades is getting to be too much, too hot, too icy, too much, but it grounds you.





	Day six: Smut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feeltripping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/gifts).



> Time to be honest, people... this is the first time I write smut and I need to know how I did... please, my nerves aren’t letting me wait until tomorrow morning TT_TT.
> 
> Shoutout to [feeltripping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeltripping/pseuds/feeltripping) whose works help inspire this piece... also, a grandiose shout out to her annons who help... incentivate... this work.

“Such a good girl,” her breath is warm against your ear. “ _My_ good girl.”

You shiver.

The wind coming in from the open window is chilly against your heated skin.

The sweat formed after your long workout is sticky where it pools at your lower back.

Your knees are sore after so long in the same position and you know you’ll have red spots there that won’t fade until morning.

Your legs are open wide, your center painfully unattended.

The ache at your shoulder blades is getting to be too much, too hot, too icy, too much, but it grounds you.

It grounds you how Maggie tugs at your bound wrists, tied behind your back.

It grounds you how your cheek is smashed against the rough sheets.

It grounds you how you can’t see, the blindfold smooth against your eyes.

It grounds you how your ass is up in the air, unmoving, flush against Maggie.

“ _My_ sweet girl.”

It grounds you how Maggie keeps whispering into your ear.

It grounds you how Maggie’s naked front is draped across your back.

It grounds you how Maggie’s hand is gently caressing your flank.

It grounds you how Maggie every so often leaves a kiss on your neck, on your shoulder, on your back.

“Color, my good girl?”

You whine.

You don’t want to speak.

You don’t want to think.

You just want to get lost in the sensations.

You just want to get lost in her voice.

A sharp slap on your thigh makes you cry out. It’s not too hard, but it wasn’t expected… and it certainly wasn’t unwelcomed.

“I asked a question, Alex.”

You whimper now.

She didn’t call you hers. She didn’t call you good. She didn’t make her voice soft.

You whimper.

“G-Green,” it’s barely out before Maggie soothes the spot where she hit.

“Good girl,” she praises you again, and you feel yourself fall heavier into the mattress.

Maggie’s hand resumes its wandering, but it doesn’t stay to your flank this time.

No.

This time she lets her cool fingertips go all the way up to your sideboob. She teases you there for a moment, long enough for you to squirm. “Easy, baby,” she tells you. “Easy.”

You still as much as you can.

She hasn’t give you permission to move, even if it tickles.

“God, you’re beautiful.” You whine again when her hand sneaks in between the mattress and your body, finding your nipple and pinching. “Beneath me, at my mercy. Squirming so pretty. Do you like squirming for me, baby?”

The moan that escapes your throat is not intentional.

She hasn’t given you permission to talk, other than to give your colors.

“Yes, love, I know,” Maggie’s other hand leave your bound wrists to run her fingers through your matted hair. “My good Alex likes to please me. My beautiful girl likes to dance with me. _For_ me.”

You squirm again. Her words, her hands, warming your chest, pooling into the liquid fire you need Maggie to put out.

“Easy, love, easy.”

You hear a needy cry and it takes you a moment to realize it’s yours.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Hands leave you. Maggie’s front raises from your back. Her warmth is gone and you feel the air biting on your heated ass.

You feel your eyes water behind the blindfold. You blink, heavy, and the smooth cloth absorbs your tears.

You let out a soft sob, not feeling Maggie.

Not hearing her.

“Shhh, Alex.” Maggie’s hand is at your back, pressing down between your shoulder blades, smashing you against the mattress. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

You open and close your hands, searching for her.

“Easy, Alex… what do you need?” she asks you. “Use your words, baby.”

You work your mouth around thin air. You know what you want. You know what you need. But talking is too hard right now.

Too, too hard.

But you’re Maggie’s good girl.

“Y-You… ins-inside… please,” you mumble, straining against the fog that’s threatening to consume you.

“Such a good girl,” Maggie’s hand runs up and down your back. “Telling me what she wants… thank you, Alex, for being such a good girl.”

You want to rub your legs together, to relieve some of the ache now that Maggie’s not there, but she hasn’t told you to move yet.

“Can you stay still, baby? Can you wait here for me for a little bit?”

You whine.

No. No, you can’t.

You need Maggie. You need her hands, her skin, her voice, her breathe against your ear.

You start fidgeting, not breaking position, but making you displeasure know.

“Alex…” her tone is not warning, but she’s not happy either.

You bite your lip, hard enough to draw blood, to prevent you from crying for her. To prevent you from begging her not to leave you.

“Five minutes, love,” she tells you. “I’ll talk you through it.”

You sob out again, louder this time, but you nod.

You don’t want it, but you’re Maggie’s good girl and your ache to please her is bigger than you need for her.

For her warmth, for her words, for her weight, for her mere presence.

“Good girl. So brave, so pretty, so _mine._ ”

You try to still once her hand leaves you again, but your hands can’t stop clenching, your feet can’t stop moving.

Your mind can’t keep wandering.

Maggie’s talking to you but you don’t pay attention to what she’s saying. You can hear how she opens drawers and close them, how she walks around the bed, the rustling of fabric.

“Did you hear anything I said?” Maggie’s voice is behind you again, kneeling in between your legs.

You didn’t. You were busy trying to listen to her voice, to know she didn’t leave. You don’t care what she said, it was just idle chat about the last time you were with the whole gang, you think.

You focused only on her, on the noises she made, on making sure you didn’t panic at not feeling her near.

A loud smack smarts your ass, rocking you forward just a tiny bit.

“So rude,” Maggie complains. “I think you need to be punished for that.”

She may be between your legs, but she’s still not touching you.

You want to beg to please touch you, to please help you, that you’ve waited enough.

You want to beg her not to leave you, to be against you, to please, please, please… you’re a good girl.

But you don’t get to call the shots.

Maggie’s undoing the knots at your wrists, freeing you.

You don’t move your hands, leaving them where Maggie leaves them.

“Hands in front of you, baby. Rest on your elbows. Forehead on the mattress.”

You do as told, your back popping at the move. Your cheek feels hot where it was resting against the sheets and your neck complains when you rest your weight in your forehead, but you don’t complain.

“Color?”

“Green.”

This time the answer comes easy to you, even as your tears are falling again. You’ve displeased Maggie and you need to be the best girl for her.

“Alex?”

“Green,” you repeat, firmly.

You’re ready for whatever she dishes at you.

The first slap is hard. But not harder than the last one.

Yet, you’re still sore from before, from the little session you had over her lap.

They are not hard, but they smart. They smart too sharp.

Even so, you don’t cry out.

The second is harder and makes you whimper in the back of your throat.

In retaliation, the third is placed on your upper thigh as is the fourth.

You’ll remember this tomorrow when you sit down.

The fifth, sixth, seventh, are blurred together, a quick fire all over the place.

After the eight, you simply concentrate on not making a sound, biting again on your lip, worrying it and tasting copper on your tongue.

Tonight, Maggie made it clear she didn’t want to hear you, that she would let you know when you can speak, when you can complain, when you can scream.

She allows whimpers, whines, moans but after your offence, you know it’s better if you keep totally quiet, taking your punishment like a good girl.

A good girl for Maggie.

Maggie who is methodic, who is hard, who is deliberate.

She keeps changing her tempo, her intensity. She doesn’t let you anticipate the next hit.

“My girl is usually vocal,” Maggie comments during a break, as she caresses your abused skin. “What’s wrong with my girl? Use your words, baby.”

You sniff and shiver and press closer to her and fidget and _shiver_.

“Alex?”

“Green.”

Maggie’s hands still.

“Green,” you repeat.

You feel Maggie shuffles to your left. She pats your foot. “Close your legs, please.”

You frown, but obey.

Maggie’s hand is now on your back, running small circles all over. “Can you lay down for me? Face me, baby.”

You’re confused. This hasn’t happened before. Still, she’s the one in charge, so you comply, curling up on your side, facing her.

“Good girl, baby.”

Your chest expands with warmth and you blink lazily, heavily, when she removes the blindfold.

The sight that greets you is amazing.

You girlfriend naked, her skin glistering with her sweat, her hair pulled tight in a ponytail, her cheeks flushed. She’s wearing your favorite strap-on, the one that fills you so, so, so, so good. The one that stretches you enough for it to sting, just beneath your limit, just shy of being too much.

The first time Maggie introduced you to it, you cried yellow immediately. It was too much then, way bigger than what you left behind when you realized you’re a lesbian. It was suddenly too crushing, the fear of failing Maggie because you didn’t think you could take it.

She was so understanding then, easing you into it little by little, inch by inch. Always making sure you were lubed enough, wet enough, aroused eno-

“Alex!” Fingers are snapped at your face, making you focus on Maggie’s eyes. “Yellow!”

Your chest no longer feels warm, it feels icy… oppressing, too tight. The safeword making you a little more alert, a little more _here._ A little more panicky. “Maggie?” you ask, knowing you can speak now. Her eyes held concern and fear and a little pain. You did something to make her want to pause, to call yellow, you somehow turned her off. What did you do? “Are you okay?”

Maggie snorts, but it holds no amusement. “Am I okay? Alex, are _you_ okay?”

You blink at that, barely aware that the last of your tears fall with that. “I didn’t call yellow, Mags.”

You are confused. There’s something wrong here.

Maggie smiles down to you, reaching to brush away your tears. “ _You_ needed a yellow, love… I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Your eyebrows furrow at that. “I was green, Maggie… I was green all along.”

Maggie moves so she’s laying next to you, facing you. The tip of the dildo brushes your stomach, making you tremble.

Or maybe you shiver cause it’s too chilly now.

Or maybe is because your thighs are still slick with your arousal and the ache between your legs is still too uncomfortable.

Maggie’s fingers brush the hair out your eyes and she blows a little air to your heated forehead. “You weren’t love… you stopped playing and started second guessing yourself… what happened? Can you tell me, baby?”

Your frown deepens. “I don’t und-”

“Be a good girl, Alex, and think for me. What happened that you stopped enjoying it? Where did your mind go?”

You clink your mouth shut. Maggie asked you to do something and you need to answer her truthfully.

Okay, so, yes. Something happened during your play time and that something threw Maggie off… which, according to her, it was because something happened to _you._

Everything was fine until Maggie started spanking you. The blows were not hard, but they hurt a little too much… not physically, but they somehow _hurt_.

Maggie’s hand is rubbing at your shoulder, helping with the ache there. You close your eyes at the sensation of her fingers digging in your muscles.

… but… it wasn’t the spanking, was it?

It was before that.

It started when you didn’t listen to Maggie talking to you about Kara and Winn and James and Lena and… it wasn’t that she was talking about them when you were dripping onto the sheets, she does that often enough because she knows it makes you uncomfortable but not overly so.

She does it, she says, to make sure you are with her, at least mentally, and to help you cool down a little during your sessions.

… she says it’s to make sure you are with her…

… but you didn’t feel her with _you_.

You open your eyes, meeting Maggie’s chocolate ones. “You left me,” you tell her quietly. “You left me and- and I got scared.”

“Scared, baby?” Maggie’s other hand reaches for yours, interlacing your fingers. “That’s not the first time we do that… what changed?”

You worry your bottom lip again and Maggie reaches to tug at it. You know she hates how you do that when you’re anxious and she always tries to remind you not to bite it.

You can’t help it.

You never realize you do it.

“Alex?”

“I- I don’t know,” you tell her honestly. “It was too much… I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby, no. Don’t apologize. Never apologize. If you felt it was too much, then it was too much.” She reaches to kiss your brow. “I’m sorry I left you. I should have seen it. I’m sorry you got scared.”

You snuggle into her then, hiding yourself beneath her chin.

You want to tell her you’re sorry you interrupted a really intense scene and that you left her hanging… she’s given you two orgasms already and you haven’t been allowed to touch Maggie yet.

You bask on her warmth, having felt too cold, happy to be held, Maggie’s arms squeezing you just the right amount… when you’re like this, her hugs are never soft… they are strong, with intent, as if Maggie was trying to fuse the two of you together…

… as if she’s making sure you’re anchored to her.

The tip of the dildo pokes your belly again and you shift in place, rubbing your legs together.

Maggie might have stopped, but she never cried red and you feel like you are ready to go back to business… as long as Maggie feels ready too.

Maggie chuckles, one hand going down from your back to your ass, kneading lightly. “Somebody’s eager to continue,” she comments amused.

You whine in the back of your throat when her fingers dip between your legs, probing, teasing. The change in the air is almost palpable and you know Maggie’s in charge again.

“Oh, my… my baby is still wet.”

You nod against her shoulder. Your hands are untied and you know you shouldn’t, but you prod her breast, gently, hesitantly.

You haven’t touch her in what feels like years and the crave to do so is getting to be too much.

“My good girl needs to touch me right now, doesn’t she?” You nod again, glad Maggie always knows what you need, even when she makes you ask for it most of the time. “That’s okay, baby, you can touch my boobs, it’s okay.”

You waste no time into doing as allowed, grabbing both of them in your hands, squeezing, massaging, pinching. Your hold is gentle, just like Maggie’s is on your butt and you take grate care to let her know how content you feel right now.

The ache in between your legs is still there, but you no longer feel desperation and need… you feel almost sleepy now, uncomfortable, yes, but sleepy and safe and warm and happy.

“Color, baby?”

“Green.”

You know Maggie won’t bring back the intensity you were playing with before. You know that, with the way she’s treating you right now, she’s gonna make love to you and not fuck you like she was doing before.

She won’t look for your release, but for your peace of mind.

She’ll be gentle and loving and grounding and what you need right now.

“Lay back, love,” she orders you softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You protest feebly as she pushes you just enough that you’re lying on your back, the sheets rough against your ass. You want to complain, but then Maggie’s putting a pillow beneath your butt and then she’s on top of you, her weight comforting and heavy.

“My precious girl,” Maggie comments. “My lovely Alex.”

Her hands are still prodding at your center, barely touching you now. Her fingertips travel lazily from your clit to your entrance and back, never putting pressure, never like you need.

You whimper when she takes your right wrist and bring it above your head. “Hands up, baby.”

You do as told, grabbing onto the headboard’s bars and Maggie takes her time running her free hand down your bicep in rhythm with her fingertips at your center.

“Does my good girl needs help keeping her hands up?” she asks in a husk. “Use your words, baby.”

Normally, not having to worry about your hands is liberating. Normally, Maggie likes for you to be at her mercy. Normally, you like the feel of the silk biting on your wrists.

But, not now.

Right now, you need to know you can touch Maggie if you start drifting again. Right now, you need the reassurance that you can pull her to you. Right now, you need to have a little control too.

“No,” you rasp when Maggie suddenly pinches your clit. “No bounds.”

Maggie kisses under your ear. “Okay, baby. Thank you for telling me what you need.”

You whimper.

What you need is Maggie inside you, stretching you, filling y-

Oh.

The tip of the dildo is at your entrance, pushing so ever lightly as her finger caresses your clit. “Color?”

You moan trying to pull her in with your legs. “G-Green, Maggie, p-please, green.”

Maggie smiles down at you and the sight makes your eyes water again.

With a little trust, the head pops in and your moth opens without permission, your tears start rolling down the side of your eyes to the sheets.

“My lovely girl,” Maggie coos, letting the dildo slid in slowly, letting you get used to it. “I want to hear you now, Alex. Scream for me, my precious girl.”

With a quick roll of her hips, she slams the rest of the way in, making you cry sharply.

It somehow feels bigger than you remember, more invasive, more rigid, more filling. Maggie collapses onto you, her weight making breathing hard. “There, my girl, such a pretty sound you make.”

She starts lazily, sliding in and out with such care that you’re left squirming beneath her, trying to create more friction, trying to make her move faster, harder.

You sob when she pauses, with just the tip in, letting you hanging, raising her front from you. “Tell me Alex… what do you need?”

Your squirming intensifies. You kick your legs, powerless. You grip the bars tightly, forcing you not to touch Maggie, not to make her _move._

“Mo-More, Maggie, p-please, more.”

“Your wish is my command, my beautiful baby.”

She lifts your legs, pulling them over her shoulders and starts pummeling you, the new angle making the dildo reach deeper, making it stretch you wider. Her movements make you bounce in the mattress and you bring on hand down, grabbing to her shoulder, anchoring you, grounding you.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you chant breathlessly when Maggie’s fingers return to your clit, when the head of the dildo hits as back as it reaches.

Maggie doesn’t comment, too busy grunting with effort and making you feel it.

“Mags, Mags.” You bring your other hand down, sneaking it to her front.

Maggie answers you by leaving your clit and pressing her hand on your lower belly, hard.

The shift is instant.

You scream at the new sensation and Maggie slows down just enough that her trusts are deeper, making the dildo meet her hand.

You vision blurs and you try to grab at Maggie, at the sheets, at anything.

Your throat is raw, your scream not quiet ending even if can’t make a sound anymore.

And the feeling of her inside you, of her filling you, of her loving you…

“Come for me, love. Come for me like a good girl.”

… and the feeling of her loving you, is the last thing you know before you see stars explode.

XxXxX

When you come back to, Maggie is already out the strap-on, into soft pajamas and she’s changed the sheets.

It amazes how she does that every single time while you’re far too gone into your bliss to notice it.

You rub your legs together, feeling suddenly too empty. You can feel the bruise cream on your butt and you scrunch up at how pasty it feels.

“Welcome back, love,” Maggie whispers as she comes sit near to you. She’s holding a hand-towel and you know she’ll wipe you down and you know it’s going to be cold. So, you move as far from her as you can, searching for the quilt she always leaves nearby after one of your sessions.

Maggie chuckles, grabbing onto your thigh. “Come here, you.”

“No,” you whimper, still trying to roll away. Problem is, you can’t really move and your arms and legs are too heavy, too languid.

“Alex, c’mon. You’ll feel better after I clean you up.”

You hate your bed sometimes. You hate the fact that it’s the size of a large raft when you can’t escape Maggie, you hate it’s so massive when you can’t reach the quilt Maggie left all the way over the edge, you hate it when it’s suddenly too big and you have nowhere to hide.

You whine.

“Alex, love.” Her tone is not harsh nor angry, but it makes you feel uncomfortable. You’ve barely moved away, but you let yourself roll back into her.

“Sorry,” you say sullenly.

Maggie taps your lip with her index. “Put the pout away. You know I have to clean you up and that you need to drink water before you can curl up for the night.”

You whine again, but don’t protest when she starts wiping you down. It’s cold, like always, but she’s right, it makes you feel better to get rid of all the stickiness. Once she’s done with your center, she goes up and switches towels so she can get rid of all the sweat that clings to you.

Again, is cold and you’re left shivering, naked.

“Come here, baby.” Maggie is back, this time with your quilt and you waste no time into burrowing into it, grateful and happy when Maggie wraps you in it, pulling you to her lap, her arms embracing you just the way you love. “Drink this.”

You don’t protest and take the sport bottle she’s handed you. Sometimes she’d give you water, others, tea, and few others, she’d let you have some sort of hydrating drink. Today’s tea and you’re grateful for its slight warmness.

“How are you feeling?” she asks once you’ve drained the bottle.

How hum, burrowing your nose on her neck. “Sated.”

Maggie laughs. “I’d imagine.”

You rub your nose on her skin, inhaling her sweet scent. Knowing her, she had a quick shower while you were coming down your high. “Did you come?”

You barely touched Maggie, and while you are too tired to do anything about it right now, you need to know if you’ll be waking her up with your tongue tomorrow.

You are you kidding? You’ll be waking her up with your tongue tomorrow no matter what her answer is.

“I did,” Maggie kisses your brow. “Seeing you all pretty and all wet for me was more than enough.”

You kiss her back, on her neck, too content to move. You close your eyes, happy.

“Sleep?” Maggie asks you.

You nod, knowing she’ll move you around so you can lay contently in the middle of the bed with your girlfriend spooning you.

You’re at the brick of sleep when Maggie’s voice reaches you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you brought your hands down.”

You smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maggie scoffs, her breath hitting the back of your neck and prompting you to nestle more firmly against her front. “Of course you don’t. I’ll have to punish my good girl, though… she’s starting to lie now.”

You laugh and turn in her arms so you can tuck yourself under her chin. Being called her good girl, even out of one of your scenes, makes you feel protected, safe, cherished, loved. “Tomorrow. Your good girl is tired.”

You feel her drop a kiss on your hair.

“It’s a promise, my good girl. Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> ... thoughts?


End file.
